


I'm Too Hot (hot damn)

by kitsunequeen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Slow Dancing, and regular dancing, wedding au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 23:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3400721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsunequeen/pseuds/kitsunequeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>For the request "THE PACK IS AT SCOTT AND ALLISON'S WEDDING AND DEREK'S BEING A GRUMPY BROODER IN THE CORNER SO STILES MARCHES OVER AND IS LIKE DANCE WITH ME SOURWOLF."</em><br/> <br/>------</p><p>“I’ve had three different guys come up to me and demand I stop looking at their dates,” Derek says, and okay, Stiles could see how that would start to piss a guy off after a while. Especially because <em>oh</em>. Argent women. Derek definitely has the right to be uncomfortable with that.</p><p>“Why don’t you just let them know you’re not interested?”</p><p>“I’m sitting alone in a corner at one of my best friends’ weddings. What else am I supposed to do?”</p><p>The question is probably rhetorical, but that’s apparently yet another thing on the list of Stuff Stiles’ Subconscious Doesn’t Care about Even Though It Really Should, because suddenly he finds himself saying, “You could dance with me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Too Hot (hot damn)

Stiles doesn’t take a date to Scott’s wedding.

Jackson takes Lydia, Boyd takes Erica, and Isaac takes Cora, leaving Stiles all alone. Which, fine. He’s the best man, so in the hierarchy of wedding awesomeness, single best man probably trumps regular, dating guest.  

There was always the option to take a third cousin twice removed or something, but eh, he’d passed on the idea. As far as Stiles is concerned, taking his family members to any sort of event is a serious no-no. Allison had even offered one of her cousins, but as nice as Allison is, the rest of the Argents still spook him a little. So he goes alone—stag, he calls it, if only because it sounds cooler.

The ceremony had been nice, with Scott tearing up, the big softie, and then Allison joining him. It’d also been nice because no one had been looking out for dates there. Now, unfortunately, all the couples dancing around him make Stiles feel very noticeably alone. As far as he can see, the only other dateless guy here is Derek. Which, naturally, is not a big problem. He gives off a certain air of mystique, with his hair spiked just so and his suit that manages to show off his build without looking tight and his fancy tie, and honestly, it’s probably kind of rude to show up looking better than the groom. Or maybe that’s just Stiles’ crush talking. 

Lydia had been in charge of 99% of the wedding plans, and why she had seated Derek all the way off in a corner was beyond him, because didn’t she know he would gravitate there anyway without her help? At least they could  _try_  to make him have some social interaction. That thought process somehow leads to Stiles walking over to him _, and really, legs, ask permission first next time_ , and half-yelling over the music a, “Hey, Sourwolf.”

Derek glances up at him from where he’d been staring at what just looks like a fixed point on a wall to Stiles, but is apparently the most interesting thing in the world based on Derek’s reluctance to pull his eyes from it.

“Whatcha doing?” Stiles continues loudly. He begins tapping one foot in time with the music, and Derek pulls a face.

“I’m celebrating,” he says dryly, and Stiles feels that if they were in a movie Derek would knock back a shot right about now. Unfortunately, his werewolf healing prohibits it, and though Stiles could actually probably go for one himself after being forced—by his own traitorous body, no less—to stand here and look at the single hotness that is Derek Hale, while he’s also single but… well… not so hot, there’s no alcohol in sight for him either.

“Why the long face?” he asks, and really, Derek should be grateful he hadn’t made some sort of werewolf snout joke.

“There are a million people here.”

Stiles has to stifle a laugh, because that’s the kind of thing he would  _act_ like Derek would say and would tease him for, but sounds even more ridiculous actually coming out of Derek’s mouth.

“Yeah, well. They do tend to invite people to weddings. Stupid, in my opinion. They should really be sacred ceremonies held in the dead of night out on-”

“That’s not what I meant,” Derek interrupts, eyebrows furrowing impossibly harder. “Half the women here are staring at me.”

“Oh,  _no_ ,” Stiles says, throwing a hand on his forehead and pretending to faint. Derek grabs at his bicep and rights him in annoyance, and Stiles adamantly pretends the touch hadn’t sent a shiver through his whole body. 

“Their dates are staring at me, too,” Derek grumbles. “Like I’m going to walk over to every single one of their girlfriends and start making out with them. It’s ridiculous.”

“When’d you get so high and mighty?” Stiles asks. “Maybe it’s just some of the Argent’s gauging if they could take out a werewolf from this distance.”

“I’ve had three different guys come up to me and demand I stop looking at their dates,” Derek says, and okay, Stiles could see how that would start to piss a guy off after a while. Especially because  _oh_. Argent women. Derek definitely has the right to be uncomfortable with that.

“Why don’t you just let them know you’re not interested?”

“I’m sitting alone in a corner at one of my best friends’ wedding. What else am I supposed to do?”

The question is probably rhetorical, but that’s apparently yet another thing on the list of Stuff Stiles’ Subconscious Doesn’t Care about Even Though It Really Should, because suddenly he finds himself saying, “You could dance with me.”

And, well, there’s sort of no going back from that, so he sticks out an offertory hand.

Derek stares at it, crinkling his nose as though the appendage had personally offended him.

“I’m good.”

“C’mon, don’t be such a baby. I don’t even have a big bad boyfriend to threaten to pump you full of wolfsbane.”

The corner of Derek’s mouth tugs upwards, just a little, and Stiles can’t believe this actually might work.

“Gotta show up all these hunters, right? Betcha got some pretty smooth wolfy moves. And I bet I could get the DJ to play like, Monster Mash, and you could totally own everyone in here.”

At that Derek’s face lapses into an actual smile that has Stiles’ stomach curling up in on itself.

“I’m serious though,” he says, wiggling the fingers of the hand he’s still holding out. “I’m bored, you’re bored, Scott would be totally bummed if he knew his friends didn’t have a good time at his wedding…” he trails off, raising an eyebrow at Derek, who’s biting down on his lip to suppress a grin that Stiles really wishes he would just let go.

“Alright,” he says, less gruff, and allows Stiles to pull him to his feet. “But only because I don’t think I can see Scott cry twice in one day.”

“That’s the spirit,” Stiles laughs, because he had somehow just wheedled  _Derek Hale_ into dancing with him, and really, who cares about the reason?

Stiles drags him out to the middle of the dance floor, locking eyes with and sending overly-sweet smiles at anyone who looks their way. Derek, surprisingly, doesn’t even argue. 

Uptown Funk is halfway through playing, and Stiles nearly faints for real this time when he starts doing some stupid little dance and Derek actually echoes it. Perfectly.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” Stiles gasps, as though he’s been horribly betrayed. Which he kind of has, considering he’s missed out on getting to see Derek dance a single time in all these years. But really, of course Derek is one of those douchebags who’s naturally good at everything.

“If you don’t believe me just watch,” Derek says in a very serious tone, then he grins, and dear god Derek is smiling and dancing and making pop culture references and  _jokes,_  and when had Stiles entered the Twilight Zone? “Besides I don’t know if I would call that thing you just did dancing but,” and then he does it again, and somehow makes it look  _good_ , the showoff, “we had a big family. I’ve been to my fair share of weddings.”

He probably has. Derek was probably an equally hot teenager, so he’d likely been to not only weddings but to dances and parties and clubs. Still, it’s hard to imagine the guy who had been glowering at a wall two minutes ago dancing. And actually looking  _happy_ about it.

Stiles can feel lots of people shooting them sidelong glances, but doesn’t pay them any mind. If he’s dancing with Derek, he’s going to enjoy it goddammit.

“How bout-” Stiles asks, and the next move he does nearly has him tripping over himself, but again Derek mimics it flawlessly.

And that’s how it goes. Somehow Stiles finds himself doing ridiculously stupid dance moves— but really, everyone around them is, so he deems himself socially acceptable—and Derek does them better, probably the only guy in the whole place who looks decent dancing to this. Stiles is afraid to know what kind of dorky moves Scott is doing.

The song ends, eventually, and he and Derek just stare at each other, panting a little as the music fades.

Stiles is excited for the next one, but then a slow song stars and crap. Crap damn  _shit_ because he had been so looking forward to this and he’s pretty sure if Derek sits back down it’ll break the spell of whatever weird parallel universe they had wandered into, and Stiles will never get to do something like this again.

“You wanna dance?”

It takes Stiles a moment to register that the words had not, in fact, come from his own mouth. They had come from Derek’s. Derek had just asked him to slow dance and  _how is this a thing that’s happening_  and if the world ends right now Stiles would probably die happy, even if Derek’s probably just asking to show up all the stupid guests still staring at them.

“Yeah, sure, totally, I uh-”  _Do not ruin this by rambling._  “Yeah.”

“Good,” Derek says, and Stiles is suddenly extremely jealous of every werewolf in the room, because he wants to know what all of this means and Derek’s giving him nothing.

Stiles doesn’t know what he’d been expecting, maybe arms’ length casualness or something, but suddenly his chest is pressed against Derek’s and he’s looking over his shoulder and Derek’s murmuring, “Is this okay?” which  _yeah_ , it’s very, very okay but Stiles’ mouth refuses to work so he just ends up nodding vehemently over Derek’s shoulder.

“Good,” Derek says again, and Stiles is pretty sure he’s smiling.

And they dance.

It’s not a long song, maybe two minutes, but it feels like a million years as he and Derek gently sway back and forth. Stiles can see a few people glaring daggers at him, but he really can’t bring himself to care just now.

When the song ends it’s only with great reluctance and self-control that he’s able to pull himself back from Derek.

“That was something, huh?” Stiles manages. He can’t even imagine how red his face must be, but it’s probably not good. “Showed those Argents.”

Derek’s face goes through a range of emotions, and Stiles feels like he’s playing wheel of fortune with how uncertain he is where it’s going to land.

He finally settles on raising a suggestive eyebrow, and saying, “Maybe it wasn’t for the Argents.”

And oh.  _Oh_. No wonder Derek had been so happy to dance with him. 

Holy shit.

“How about one more song?” Derek offers.

They dance the whole night.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos are always appreciated<3
> 
> Visit me on tumblr at [stilesbansheequeen](http://stilesbansheequeen.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> I apologize if Uptown Funk is now stuck in your head;)


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